


Pour Up

by the_me09



Series: Devil Caught My Eye [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Creampie, Curious Michelle Jones, F/M, Horny Teenagers, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Multi, Negotiations, Risky Kink, Roughness, Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex, Villain Quentin Beck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_me09/pseuds/the_me09
Summary: Quentin wishes he’d been doing something nefarious when he got the call. It would have been great if he and Peter had been fighting, but Quentin is just sitting at home, flipping through TV channels when his phone rings. He doesn’t recognize the number, but he’s bored, and it could be another villain wanting to team up, so he answers it.“This is Quentin Beck, right?” A girl asks. He recognizes that voice.“Yeah, are you Peter’s crazy bitch girlfriend?” Quentin says with a laugh. “How’d you get my number, honey?”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Quentin Beck, Quentin Beck/Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Devil Caught My Eye [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965274
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Pour Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unsettled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/gifts).



> You asked what Quentin is thinking, so this happened. I need to get his POV right in my head before working on any of the other *ahem* scenarios you've suggested. 
> 
> Set just before Fill It Up.

Quentin wishes he’d been doing something nefarious when he got the call. It would have been great if he and Peter had been fighting, but Quentin is just sitting at home, flipping through TV channels when his phone rings. He doesn’t recognize the number, but he’s bored, and it could be another villain wanting to team up, so he answers it. 

“This is Quentin Beck, right?” A girl asks. He recognizes that voice. 

“Yeah, are you Peter’s crazy bitch girlfriend?” Quentin says with a laugh. “How’d you get my number, honey?”

“Don’t call me honey,” she says with annoyance, “or I’ll hang up right now.” 

“So hang up,” Quentin says. What was her name again? Emma something?

She huffs. “Don’t you want to know why I called?”

He is curious. Their little tryst was a couple weeks ago, and he was so drugged out it feels like a dream. A very strange, very hot dream. 

“Hmm, you want me to stop tormenting Peter and you think our little fuck will soften me or give you some sway.” Quentin sinks down in his sofa, waiting for the inevitable begging and appealing to some nicer side of him. MJ, that was her name. 

“Actually, I just want to try your dick again,” MJ says, her voice dark and amused. 

If Quentin were drinking something at the moment, he would have done a spit take. As it is, he stares blankly at his tv. Did he hear her right? Peter’s girl is more of a freak than he thought. 

Unless they broke up and she wants to fuck him to get back at Peter. That makes more sense. She’s seventeen, that’s how their brains work. Eh, might get messy, she’ll probably catch feelings. He’s not sure if he wants to deal with that. 

“What’s the catch?” Quentin asks. 

“Why don’t we discuss it in person?” MJ says. “Come over to my place.”

Could this be a trap? Would Peter use his own girlfriend as bait? Quentin can’t rule it out as a possibility. 

“You mean your parent’s place?” Quentin snorts. 

“Well, yeah, but they’re not home,” MJ’s voice becomes teasing, lilting. “And all I’m wearing is this tiny lacy pair of underwear.”

Quentin’s dick twitches at the picture he conjures up. She was very pretty, and liked it rough. Rode him until he couldn’t see straight. There’s no way this offer is genuine. Quentin narrows his eyes. 

“You didn’t tell me the catch,” he says. 

“It’s not so much a catch, as a deal,” MJ says. “Peter and I were talking, and we decided you could be sort of an exception.” 

“An exception to what?” Quentin says, his suspicion growing. 

“Our relationship. Like, we’re exclusive, except we can both sleep with you,” MJ says, matter-of-fact, but he can hear the nervousness in her tone. 

“Hold on, you could  _ both _ sleep with me?” Quentin laughs. “Peter liked my ass that much, huh? Or was he jealous of you on my dick, wanted to try it for himself?” 

He can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone. “So will you come over?” 

“Sure, is Peter there?” Quentin stands up and stretches. 

“Not yet,” she says. “I’ll send you my location.” 

Quentin’s phone buzzes next to his head. “See you soon,” he says, lowering his voice. He hangs up before she can take it back. 

~*~

MJ’s bedroom is not quite what he expected. Concert posters, books everywhere, quotes on the wall from famous feminists, a large desk against one wall, a queen size bed against the other. Quentin crosses his arms. 

“I’m still expecting a catch. Are you going to call the police or something as soon as I get your pants off,” Quentin asks. “Which, by the way, I was lured here under false pretenses. You were supposed to be in lacy underwear.” She is, unfortunately, fully clothed. 

MJ raises an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m not?”

She has a point. 

Quentin uncrosses his arms, leans on her desk. “Talk.”

“Okay, well, Peter and I agreed that you could be an exception, but I don’t think he would actually start anything. So I’m starting it. And, well, Peter would never ever come inside me, and I want to know how it feels.”

Quentin swallows, trying not to show his surprise. “You want me to come inside you?”

“Yes, please,” MJ says with a smile, tossing her hair over one shoulder. 

“What if you get pregnant?” Quentin raises an eyebrow. This is exactly the dumb shit teenagers do, they go off half-cocked. She says this is what she wants, but she clearly hasn’t thought through the consequences. 

“Oh please, I’ve been on birth control for over a year, and I got plan B just in case,” MJ says. She rolls her eyes at him. “I want Peter to come inside me too. I don’t know when he would ever agree to that though.”

Quentin crosses his arms. “If he’s horny enough he wouldn’t even notice.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, men are all the same, get us going and we can’t stop,” Quentin says with a one-shouldered shrug.

MJ tilts her head. “Seriously, you think Peter will be that careless?”

“If he’s distracted and turned on enough, yeah,” Quentin says. He looks MJ over, sitting cross-legged on her bed in sweats and a crop top. She and Peter are both young, they don’t know what they’re playing with. Is that to his advantage or could this blow up in his face? Seventeen is legal in New York, so he doesn’t actually have to worry about them calling the cops, it’s parents he doesn’t want to have to deal with. 

“So, are you in?” MJ raises an eyebrow. She gets up on her knees on the bed and pulls her top off. 

She’s not wearing a bra. Quentin keeps his expression neutral, but his pants are getting tighter by the moment. MJ is slim, and her breasts are kind of small, but full. It suits her, he can’t really picture her with bigger breasts. Fuck, he wants to put his hands on her, push her down, show her what he can do when he’s not half out of his mind on sex drugs. 

MJ’s nipples tighten, get peaked and hard as he watches. The flush on her cheeks makes him think it’s his gaze that does it, not the chill in the air. She glances down, wiggles out of her sweats and, yes, she is wearing a tiny lacy black thing that leaves nothing to the imagination. Quentin swallows, his mouth feeling dry all of the sudden. She glances up at him from under her lashes. 

“Do you even know what you’re playing with?” Quentin growls. He stalks toward her, and her throat bobs, but she stares him down anyway. She’s got some backbone, he’ll give her that. 

“A third-rate villain whose grand plan involved getting Peter horny? You should be grateful I want you,” MJ says, tipping her chin up, looking down her nose at him. 

Third-rate? “I should be grateful?” Quentin laughs and shoves her down on the bed. “You wouldn’t be able to stop me if you changed your mind.” He smashes their lips together, biting at her lower lip. MJ moans into his mouth, squirming under him. 

It takes a moment, but then MJ’s hands are everywhere, undoing his pants, sliding up under his shirt, scratching over his nipples. He groans, kisses her harder, digging his fingers into her hips. She gets her hands on his shoulders and pulls his shirt over his head, forcing him to pull back so she can get his shirt off. They stare, panting for a moment before diving at each other again, kissing hot and messy. She’s good with her tongue.

He kisses along her jaw, down her neck, scraping his teeth over the jut of her collarbone. She shudders, wraps her legs around his waist, grinding up against him. How did Peter find a girl like this? Quentin presses his weight down on her, sucks a mark on the side of her neck, and grins against her skin thinking of Peter finding this mark later. A sharp bite to his own shoulder startles him. She’s feisty. His cock feels impossibly harder. 

“You know what would be fun?” Quentin says, leaning back. MJ licks her lips, breathing heavily. 

“What? You getting your pants off?” MJ shoves at his jeans, pushing them down over his ass. 

“Yes, that, but also, having Peter lick my come out of you,” Quentin says, helping her get his pants and underwear off. MJ freezes. 

“Oh my god, yes,” she moans. “Maybe you do have some good ideas.”

Quentin rolls his eyes. He sits back on his calves, watching her chest heaving while she catches her breath. Her lips already look swollen. Fuck yes, he can’t wait to fuck her up and then see Peter’s face, his confusion. What if she’s lying about all of this? It’ll be even more satisfying when Peter figures it out, or catches them. 

“I should call Peter,” she says. Quentin shrugs, doesn’t matter to him. 

He peels the slip of lace off her and pushes her legs open. MJ sucks in a breath. 

“Hold on, I need to get my phone,” she says, twisting around. 

Quentin slides his hands up her thighs, spreads her open with his thumbs. She’s soaked, the dark, curled hairs framing her pussy are damp, glimmering with moisture. He rubs his thumbs through her slickness, up to her clit. MJ rolls her hips with a soft noise. 

She doesn’t get to come until she’s on his cock. 

He slides a finger inside, slides a second finger in easily, scissoring them, curling them inside her tight, wet heat. MJ hums and arches her back, pushing herself down on his fingers. 

“Hey, come to my window, I need your help,” MJ says breathlessly and then drops her phone to the bed. “Oh fuck, give me more than that, this isn’t my first time.” 

“Oh I’m aware, you’re a slut for my cock,” Quentin murmurs, leaning over to mouth at her neck, down her chest. 

“You’re a slut for my pussy,” MJ says, cutting him an annoyed look. 

Maybe he is. The way she rode him was absolutely perfect torture. He finds his stomach swooping, cock twitching at the thought of burying himself inside her, fucking her hard, showing her what it’s like when he’s in charge. Quentin bites at her nipple, tugging lightly with his teeth. She makes a squeaking noise and shudders, clenching around his fingers. Oh, she does like it a little rough. 

“Bet you’d love some nipple clamps,” Quentin says. The possibilities bloom before his eyes. Both her and Peter tied up, nipple clamps, the two of them at his mercy. He wouldn’t even need the sex mist to get them both turned on enough to do whatever he wants. 

“Oh my god.” MJ grins. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Quentin bites at her other breast, sucks a hickey on the smooth flesh. He goes back and forth, biting, using one hand to play with her breasts while he fingers her open. 

“Are you ever going to fuck me?” MJ says. She slides a hand into his hair and tugs. 

Quentin leans back, making her let go. She glares up at him, flushed down her chest, hickeys along her breasts, up her neck. Peter is going to lose his mind. Quentin pulls his fingers out of her, slicks his cock with that same hand. 

He guides himself into her, groans at her tightness. MJ’s mouth falls open, she presses her head back into the bed as he rocks his hips deeper. The noises this girl makes could be straight from a porno. She grabs at his arms, digging her fingers into his biceps. She is a little freak, getting off on cuckolding her boyfriend. He’s going to teach the two of them so many things. And if Peter protests, well, Quentin can control him through this girl, blackmail, guilt, appeal to his jealousy, this opens a whole new avenue of manipulation. 

Fuck, she’s tight, and she knows how to use her muscles, squeezing around him. Quentin finally bottoms out, grinds into her, forces a guttural moan out of her. She is a gorgeous specimen. He flicks one of her nipples and she sucks in a breath. 

“You’re kind of a tease,” MJ says. “Are you going to fuck me or what?” 

Quentin glares and pins her hips, digging his fingers in. “Fine, you want me to fuck you?” He’ll fuck her so hard she sees stars. 

He fucks her slow and hard, long strokes, almost pulling out each time. She shuts up real quick when he speeds his pace a little, putting his weight behind each thrust. Tendons stand out on her neck when she throws her head back, hair spread out on the pillow. He sucks hickies on her neck, and realizes she’s holding back noises. 

Quentin tangles a hand in her hair, sucks on her lower lip until it’s full and wet and swollen. He would bet her pussy looks like that too. She’s tight and wet enough that each thrust makes a squelching sound. Her eyelids are heavy when she looks up at him. 

“You want to feel my come? Want me to pump you full so Peter can lick you clean again?” Quentin growls, slowing his pace, rolling his hips. MJ moans, nods frantically. 

“Yes, yes, fuck, do it,” MJ pants out. She reaches up, pushing her hands against the headboard so she has more leverage, so she’ll stop sliding up on the bed. 

Quentin moans, moves his hands to her thighs, digs his fingers in. He wants to leave bruises for Peter to find. Quentin grits his teeth, feels his hips tightening, his balls drawing up, cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Then he’s jerking, breath stuttering, waves of pleasure wracking him. 

“Oh- oh my god,” MJ says, shuddering. “I can feel it, oh- oh wow.” She moans, wiggling beneath him, squeezing tight around his cock. He groans, grinding against her, eyes closed. “Hey Peter,” she says. 

Quentin looks over his shoulder, smirking at Peter. What perfect timing for Peter to catch them, just in time to see his girlfriend take a load, but not early enough to stop him. It would serve them both right if she did end up getting knocked up. 

“Uh, hey… I thought you needed help with something?” Peter looks wide eyed, confused, flushed. He totally thinks this is hot. What a freak. 

“Yeah, I need your help. Beck just came in me, and-”

Quentin doesn’t see it coming, suddenly his back is against the wall, his chest hurts at the impact of Peter shoving him. Then there’s a hand on his throat, his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He sputters, gripping at Peter’s arms. He shivers in shock, his cock suddenly cold and wet. Motherfucker, he shouldn’t have listened to the little bitch, it seems like Peter had no idea. 

Peter glances down at his cock. Well, maybe she didn’t totally lie then. He should have Peter get on his knees and clean him up, warm his cock back up until he’s ready for round two. Fuck, it would be hot to come inside Peter too. 

“Peter stop,” MJ says, exasperated. “I asked him to.”

Quentin sucks in a breath as Peter’s hand loosens. Finally, Peter lets go of him, steps up to the bed. He lists all the reasons Quentin already pointed out to MJ about how stupid and careless this is, but MJ has a rebuttal for every argument. He can see the moment Peter gives in, stiffens, when come starts dripping out of MJ, a streak of white between her legs. 

If Peter didn’t agree to clean her out, Quentin would do it himself. A plan for the rest of their night starts to form in his head. He’ll get a chance to eat MJ out, and have Peter in the process. 

This is going to be fun. 


End file.
